


Are you going to Viridian Fair?

by Amalys_Lux_Tenebrae



Series: Gift-fics for Indomitable_Clyde [6]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Now with added mimmoths, kanto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 23:00:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16105583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amalys_Lux_Tenebrae/pseuds/Amalys_Lux_Tenebrae
Summary: During a break from research, Gary explores the things to be found at the Viridian fair and finds something he wasn't expecting.





	Are you going to Viridian Fair?

**Author's Note:**

> This work is written for the purposes of entertainment and to explore alternative ideas in the Pokémon Universe. No money is being made off of the characters, places and plot of the Pokémon universe,  
> Mimmoths belong to Phil Foglio & Kaja Foglio and appear in the Girl Genius universe. All rights belong to their original owners.
> 
> Note, All works by this author, set in the pokémon universe, can be considered Alternative as the author picks and chooses from the anime, game, manga and fan works. This pokémon world can be considered three universes to the left, four down and two turns to windward on alternate Tuesdays.

Gary wandered around the Viridian Fair. He’d managed to argue for a break in his research so he could visit his grandfather, and specifically, this event. Every five years the whole city, bar the emergency services, closed down for a week in early September, stalls lined the streets and music played.

Viridian Gym itself was closed for battle but open to the public, allowing those who were interested to see some of the inner workings of the league. Music and the sound of laughter drifted, and strings of pennons fluttered on the warm candy-floss scented breeze. Stalls offered rarities like mega stones, both real and fake, resistance training harnesses and unusual and rare pokéballs. Others had more traditional forms of entertainment; hoopla, raffles, waltzers and helter-skelters and, of course, food.

One stall was offering ‘mimmoth on a stick’; the four-inch things being cooked over a low flame looks something like a cross between a donphan and a mamoswine, but the smell of rich meat and onion was enough to make his stomach grumble quietly. The stall holder brandished a couple of sticks in his direction.

“They’re not pokémon.” The florid -faced man grinned and scratched the front of his apron with his free hand. “They’re from Orre, they live in the desert ‘round Outskirt Stand. Ya can’t move without steppin’ on one of their burrows.”

“No, thanks.”

“Your loss.”

Amused, Gary ambled back and picked up the real mega-stones that he had noted, a houndoominite and a mawilite. Both were still unpolished, but researching mega-evolutions with Sycamore had given him an unusual set of skills that allowed him to acquire the stones at a vastly reduced price and polish them up himself.

Sliding them carefully into a bag, he kept walking. It was pleasant just to wander without a pattern or plan, checking out the rides, tests of skill, and street performers on a lazy afternoon. Blacky paced alongside him, occasionally sniffing at an interesting item or darting off to play with the other wandering pokémon.

There was very little that was healthy to eat, so Gary decided the best thing to cure the faint hunger caused by lack of lunch was to crunch on a toffee apple; at least that had fruit in it. Leaning against a tree, he watched the small clouds scud across a deep blue sky. A drop of apple juice dribbled down his chin before he caught it with a slender finger and licked it free of the sticky liquid. Pushing away, he wandered over and dumped the stick and core into one of the conveniently placed bins, where wasps fought for the remains.

As the day grew older, the fair became busier, with people coming in from the surrounding area. Gary still wandered, just people and ‘mon watching although he was starting to get a little bored. Further up the road, a purple pavilion had its door cloths pinned open wide and inside he could see a young, dark-haired woman wearing the traditional clothes of an Occult Specialist, also more stereotypically known as a Hex Maniac, and another woman wearing a kaftan that shaded violent pink at her shoulders to a rich and vibrant purple at the hem. The pair seemed to be in a vigorous discussion. Suddenly, the Hex Maniac threw up her arms in exasperation and flounced out of the tent before stomping in his direction.

“ My lady says that she wishes to talk with you, fortunate one, and she offers a look into the future in return. Come with me.”

Gary blinked. “Uh. I’m not interested, thank you.”

“You. Are. Getting. A. Free. Look. Into. The. Future. Move it. Now!” her voice had gone from quiet and wispy to a sergeant-major’s roar, the dichotomy was vaguely disturbing. If there was one thing that defined Gary’s character, it was that he was stubborn. Well, that, and he’d had a lot of practice fending off over-enthusiastic people…

“And I said, I’m not interested. If I want a look into the future, I’ll find Celebi.” Gary glared at the Hex Maniac, his brows furrowed, and arms crossed. There was one small problem with this, the Hex Maniac slumped as though someone had managed an attack and she was a mimikyu. Tears pooled in her violet eyes and she sniffled. It was one of the most vicious poochyena attacks he’d had the displeasure of enduring, worse than Daisy’s version, even. He sighed. “Fine. I’ll come along, listen to what she has to say and then leave. No discussion. No renumeration, That’s it. I have better things to do on the first proper holiday I’ve had in six years.”

The Occult specialist’s eyes lit up. “Thank you! You won’t regret it.” She skipped ahead, tattered purple skirts fluttering, as Gary followed along a little way behind.

“I already do.” He mumbled as they ducked under the violently violet cotton canopy.

The air inside the pavilion was muggy with a scent of heavy incense and after an unwary breath, Gary could feel the edges of an incipient headache that wasn’t helped by the vivid colours of the kaftan worn by the woman sitting at a table covered in dark-green silk.

“Welcome.” She whispered, pushing a strand of magenta hair away from her eyes. “Please have a seat and make a choice.” She whipped away the green silk to show a pack of cards, a crystal ball, and a teapot and cup. Gary considered for a moment and decided to be difficult.

“Palmistry.”

The psychic’s pinkish eyes seemed to glow in the half light of the pavilion and a small smile ticked the corner of her mouth for a moment.

“Please give me your left hand.” Gary reached over the table and she took his hand in long, cool fingers.

“Why the left hand?”

“Eh? Oh. Unless you’re left handed, it shows what might be, or could have been and the right hand shows what is or may be.” She peered at his hand, turning it this way and that, occasionally running a finger over some of the larger lines. She frowned for a moment at the tiny lines on the edge below his little finger “Right hand, please.” Gary took back his left hand and proffered the right. “Hmm.” She turned the hand over, examining the nails and the joints. Then she let go and sat back in the chair. Gary tucked his hand against his waist.

“ You have had an interesting life so far and have travelled widely. Your method of employment involves words; however, you are not averse to battling. You are analytical, collected and usually calm in intense situations, unless you lose your temper, which can be volcanic.

“You are considered arrogant and rude, but your self-belief is a method of self-defence. You are not on good terms with your immediate family, but there is the possibility of this being rectified in the near future.

“You have a current love interest, but the relationship is stormy and is unlikely to survive the long term. You have a soul-mate, but they are currently lost to you. Your health is good, and your life will be long and accomplished.”

“Thank you.” Gary’s words were bland and quiet. 

Suddenly the psychic’s eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped in her chair. Voice resonant, she spoke.

 

_“When the dead walks eight times over and more,_

_When beasts from beyond come to our distant shore,_

_A choice must be made, in time and space,_

_To hold on to a soul in a far-flung place,_

_Or not._

_The stalwart heart slowly loses strength,_

_And fortitude will yield at length,_

_The lost and lonely wanders wide,_

_When rivalry has been denied._

_For what?_

 

“Prophesy!” the hex maniac whispered, her eyes wide.

“For crying out loud!” Gary face-palmed and muttered as the psychic’s breath suddenly hitched, and she sat up blinking as though nothing had happened. “Well, that was interesting.” Gary nodded his thanks. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“I’m glad to have helped.” The psychic chirped. “Spread the word!”

“Sure.” As he strolled away, Gary peered at the hex maniac who was following and all but hovering in her indignant curiosity.

“What do you think, she’s good isn’t she? I mean, she spoke you a prophesy!”

“Please forgive me if I do not believe your psychic friend,” He began. “The results of the palmistry are easy enough to fake; the statements were fairly general and those that were more individualised could have been researched from any reasonable ‘Who’s who’. I’m fairly certain that Research Weekly has potted biographies…”

The occult specialist drew in an affronted breath, but Gary continued to critique the experience.

“As for the prophecy, it’s not the first I’ve been privy to.” He stopped for a moment, thought deeply and smirked before counting up something on his fingers. “Well, she’s a bit late. Seven years ago might have been a better time for this one to have been spoken. As for the choice?” He turned a wry and slightly sad look in her direction. “Childish decisions made nine years ago preclude the now-wished -for reconciliation. I thank your lady for her concern, but I’m afraid her warning was way too late.”

Blacky nudged at his legs and he gave a polite bow before striding off into the streets awhirl with lights and noise.

Sad violet eyes watched until he vanished from sight. The Hex Maniac’s wispy voice drifted on the breeze, overridden by the cacophony of the fair.

“Yes, it’s too late now. There is still an opportunity for you to gain everything that you have wanted, but you’ve given up. Perhaps you will be lucky and he will fulfil this prophesy for you, as he has fulfilled many others. I hope so, for both your sakes.”


End file.
